Loincloths, Morgan Freeman, and a Terrible Memoir
A Roundup That Won't Cause non-Hodgkin Lymphoma
Hello, folks. It has been a hot-minute.
I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to reboot Windows 10. Let’s just say it’s still a work in progress.
Anyways, our top story is about a memoir some guy is writing and how literally no one gives a shit.
Also, it’s summer and for many that means a new wardrobe. Our fashion experts will guide you through the newest trend “lost boy loincloth.”
Finally, we uncovered a lost chapter from William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying. Turns out it is narrated by an unborn Morgan Freeman. Weird, but not as weird as some other shit in that novel.
Strap in and strap one on.
Hot Boy Summer.
Fashion experts have made a helpful guide of trending clothes for this this summer season, and it seems all of them have "remote island-wear'' at the top of their lists.
When you have to quickly descend into paranoia-inspired madness (but still need to cover the genitals or partial buttocks) our stylists say, "when you're out there flapping in the wind, you shouldn't be flapping out there in the wind."
These quick and easy breechcloths are upscaled from schoolboy uniforms and allow you to freely move around when you create an offering to the beast or engage in frenzied, ritualistic dancing.
These Castle Rock loincloths will have you going from "prim to primitive" in no time!
Your mother is not a fish, sonny.
Curators of William Faulkner's estate have presented "lost" chapters of the author's seminal work, 'As I Lay Dying.' In an astonishing discovery, it appears an unborn Morgan Freeman is the 16th narrator of the novel.
Mr. Freeman narrates 3 chapters from Anse's sperm cell, commenting on everything from his father's true motives, Darl's state of mind, and the affair between Addie and Reverend Whitfield. Making it even more brilliant is that somehow all of this is done in the voice of Red, from the film 'The Shawshank Redemption.'
"In true Faulkner fashion, he was able to break from established classical forms of writing, and channel the dignified voice of an actor not born for another seven years."
When asked for explanation, a Faulkner historian commented, "Don't think too hard about it. It's modernism."
Can't wait for the part about the therapeutic diet.
Some dickhead in a cafe somewhere just finished a memoir and now only needs an agent, manager, editor, and book deal, not to mention anyone who gives a shit, before actually publishing this freaking thing.
Jumping on the recent tell-all memoir trend, this guy is going to reveal all of his life's secrets, starting with how "creative" he was as a child up through the time he got his heart broken by his first love.
"I just feel like this story has to be told. I've had some pretty unique things happen in my life and it's made me the person that I am today."
As the memoirist started reading us chapters from the book, like his grandparents coming over from Europe or doing track and field in high school, we just walked away because no one, I mean no one, fucking cares.